Two Bodies At The Park
by BoNeS-FaN91
Summary: A body was discovered at the park, local police believe it to be a suicide, but then another body is discovered yards away from the first victim. Are they connected? I guess we are going to leave B&B to discover that! Please R


Disclaimer: Nope, nothing belongs to me, merely borrowed the characters for pure entertainment.

A/N: First Bones Fiction I've written in a while, if you enjoy watching the show, you'll like this, hopefully.

Thanks to Emily (phalangesbyfive) for reading through the story. You're great!

* * *

Sunday night down-town D.C seemed oddly silent for a normally loud and busy city. Cloudy fog traveled slowly above the ground, dimming the streetlights.

"So Blake, what did you do after high school?" Joanna grinned, having had one too many sips of vodka. She was a well-respected family lawyer from California who seemed to have it all: the good looks, and even better, a huge fortune left by her grandparents. She'd traveled across the country due to a high school reunion. Normally she would have been busy and unable to attend, but she was also known to be the kind of woman who liked to 'rub it in'. Who wouldn't be with a successful career like hers?

"It's Jake," he corrected. "...And I've become a cop!" he exclaimed with confusion. "Isn't that obvious? I mean, I am wearing my uniform," he stated, slight frustration presented onto his facial expression. Jake Williams, a valued local police officer, had known Joanna since kindergarten. He was a maths genius, knew it all. He was a little less fortunate than Joanna was, never really fitting in with the popular crowd. The day he decided to become a cop, his parents were shocked. With a brain like his, why would he settle down for something so simple?

"Oh right, yeah okay. Are you taking me home?" she asked, ignoring or missing his frustration in her drunken state.

"No. I'm going to take you to..." his words were interrupted when Joanna's screams echoed in his eardrums and throughout the streets.

"What are you screaming about?" he sighed at her dramatization. Looking around he could see they were not alone when a guy that was walking his dog looked at them through his half-mooned spectacles. Jake flashed his police badge in his direction. The man nodded and returned to his walk through the other side of the park with his dog.

She pointed to a tree in the park that was about three hundred yards away from them. She screamed louder as they approached it. Jake told her to stay put and walked towards the tree. "Aaaah! God damn it!" he said as he covered his nose; the smell was unbearable. There in front of them hanged a human corpse, its skin as dark as the night (singular) sky. Flies were buzzing around the corpse's eyes as his face drooped downward. His blood had already turned black. COME BACK HERE!

"Is it real?" she cried, a little disgust implied in her voice. He rolled his eyes at her snobby tone before answering her, "Of course it is!" He covered his ears, protecting them from the loud shrieks.

~*~*~*~*~*

"So why did they call the FBI if it could be a suicide?" Booth moaned as he looked at the hanging body.

"We just need to be sure that it's not a murder," a local police officer alongside Jake said.

"Okay. So you found the...?" he pointed to the body. Jake nodded. He pushed his hands in to his pockets and frowned.

"Damn it! Where on earth did I leave my pen? My mum gave me that for my birthday," he moaned.

Booth shook his head in annoyance and ignored his question.

"So what do you need?" Booth asked the police officer that was in charge before he got there.

"The forensics people said they need a pathologist," the policeman said as he looked through his notes.

Reaching for his cell, he dialed the Jeffersonian medico-legal lab.

"Cam, I'm going to need you."

"Booth, good morning to you too," she laughed. "What can I do you for?"

"I'm just down at a crime scene where a guy has been found by a local cop and his friend. We think it's a suicide but you can clear that up," he concluded.

"Sure thing Seeley, is that all you need?" she asked.

"For now, yes." he said as he looked around the scene. His gazed stopped on the ground where the blackened blood lay. Breathing out with frustration, his mind screamed, '_Why can't my job ever be easy?_' He walked closer to the pool of dried blood and poked the object with his pen.

"Cam? On second thought, I'm going to need Bones, too,"

* * *

Cam and Brennan arrived at their destination fully equipped. They followed the directions Booth gave them until they saw him pacing in annoyance. Cam smiled discreetly at the FBI agent. Turning his head to them, he noticed the two forensic doctors and sighed deeply in relief.

"Oh good, you're here!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands together and directed them to the dead body. As they looked at the hanging body, Brennan frowned and said, "Booth, this is a dead _body_!".

Jake overheard her comment and laughed. "I thought you said they were the smartest people in America." He smirked.

"No! I deal with _bones,_ not flesh!" she replied in that matter-of-fact voice of hers.

"So then you must be here for the human bones," the police officer noted.

"I don't like to assume things until I have the proof that it _is_ in fact a human bone," Brennan said. She reached for the latex gloves and walked towards Cam who was already examining the body.

Brennan observed the whole area; she looked for more pieces and frowned. How was she going to come up with the victims I.D if all she had was a tibia?

Booth noticed her anxiety. "What's up Bones?" he looked down at the anthropologist who was keeping her eyes on the ground.

"Well, normally when there's a tibia, it is connected with the rest of the skeleton, or at least the leg. Booth, could you tell the forensics team to properly search this area?" she demanded more than asked. He nodded and left.

"Dr Brennan!" called a spotty looking CSI who could have not been any older than twenty-one. Brennan sighed. "I think I found what you were looking for!" the officer exclaimed, his face pale as if he hadn't seen a dead body before. When her gaze stopped on the clearly human bones, she felt a little contentment that her bones were allocated.

The scene, however, was unpleasant. The body looked like it had been separated post mortem. Maggots were already making a home in the ribcage of the victim. Some pieces of the bones still contained skin that had a green/black rotting tint to it. Brennan squinted at the body and pressed the play button on her recorder.

"The victim is male. Age between 30 to 35. African American. Detached legs, tibia was discovered approximately sixty yards from the rest of the body. The victim's clavicle looks to be fractured in several places along with five broken ribs," she spoke into the piece of technology. "Time of death approximately one month ago. At this stage, finding the cause of death is unlikely." She turned the recorder off and called Booth.

A few seconds later, he was standing next to her. A disgusted look had been planted on his face as he observed the rotting corpse. "You said he has been dead for one month. How does the body look so bad if...if..."

"The hot weather is responsible for that," she interrupted. "I want you to tell the forensics team to gather all of the bones and insects along with some soil samples and send it all to the Jeffersonian. I can take a closer look at these bones with my equipment and discover the cause of death. Angela can look at his dental records to identify him," she stated.

"Sure Bones, so let me get this straight: Male, African American, early thirties to mid thirties. I can go and run some checks on the missing persons data system, but I'm going to need more than that," he puffed.

"What's wrong with you, Booth?" She asked. She wasn't the best person to understand human behaviour, but for some reason she knew him like she knew every bone in the human body.

"Nothing Bones." He slid his hands into his pants pockets.

"You seem a little agitated. How's your biological releasing?" she blurted out.

His eyes widened at her sudden unexpected bluntness. "Wh...What! You can't just go around asking people if they...you know, recently," he whispered the last sentence, obviously uncomfortable with the conversation.

"What 'had sex'?" she articulated while holding the victims phalanges, as if it was the most appropriate thing to talk about at a crime scene.

"You know what bones, just drop it. Okay?" Booth loosened his tie that felt tighter and tighter by the second.

"You know if you don't have a sexual partner, conducting in mastur..."

"Oh hey, Pete, there you are!" he exclaimed nervously as he glanced between the forensic guy and his partner. "Here are the bones for ya...have them sent to the Jeffersonian, okay?" Booth cupped the back of his neck as he observed the young forensics man walking towards the decaying body with his equipment.

"Bye Bones," he waved and rushed away before she started the awkward conversation with him again. She frowned.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Mr. Nigel-Murray, has all of the evidence arrived?" Brennan asked.

He nodded. "Yes it has, Dr. Brennan. I've started examining the femur. It seems that our victim had a type of tendinitis of the knee known as the jumper's knee. He most likely played sports that required jumping, such as basketball," Brennan nodded in consideration.

"Did you know that children ages 5 to 14 accounted for nearly 40 percent of all sports-related injuries treated in hospital emergency departments in 2007? The rate and severity of sports-related injuries increases with a child's age," he announced.

"Um...Yes, Mr. Nigel-Murray, is there any relevance in that fact?" Cam interrupted.

"Well...um the victim most likely played basketball whilst he was in high school."

"Right, okay I'll tell Booth," Brennan said. "Dr Saroyan, how's the hanging victim evidence proceeding? Is there any connection to my victim?"

"There could be," Cam answered.

"What evidence have you got to back up that conclusion?"

"Both victims have neck injuries indicating that they were treated in the same manner and were found merely yards from one another. Whoever their murderer is, he or she clearly wanted us to know it was connected by leaving your victims tibia under my hanging victim," Cam informed her.

"How long will it take for you to get identification for your victim?" Brennan asked.

"Well, Angela is running through the data base at this moment." Cam saw Angela exiting her office with a few papers in her hand.

"There she is now," Cam declared.

Angela saw Brennan walking towards her and smiled at the forensic anthropologist. "Hey Sweetie," Angela greeted.

"Angela, have you identified Dr Saroyan's victim?" Brennan asked, anxious to get out on the field.

"Yes Bren. His name is Harold Times; he was reported missing by his girlfriend three and a half weeks ago, last seen in 'The gentlemen's club' at 0105 hours on May the 2nd."

"Thanks Angela," she said. Brennan walked to her office and dialed Booth's number. She waited for him to pick up.

"Booth."

"Booth! The hanging victim is Harold Times, last seen by his girlfriend. We need to go and speak to her. Can you come and get me?" she demanded more than asked for the second time that day.

"Sure Bones, no problem, I'm at your service" he said with a hint of sarcasm detected in his voice.

"Booth, what is wrong with you today? You seem really..._off_!"

"I'll be there soon, Bones, just drop it"

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Picking Brennan up from the lab, Booth drove straight to the address that was listed under Sophia Hern. The Address led them to a house on the outer skirts of D.C. The house itself was a white detached Victorian style. The grass looked like it hadn't been cut in a while; flowers no longer blossomed in the gardens. A red beat up Volkswagen was parked in the drive.

"Booth, are you sure someone still lives here?" Brennan asked as she looked around the large house. He nodded.

"Okaaaay," she drew the word out.

As they reached the top of the stairs, Booth knocked on the door. The door swung open straight after the knockings stopped, revealing a blonde woman no older than thirty three.

"Good morning. Are you Miss Sophia Hern?" Booth asked.

She smiled at Booth. A flirty, somewhat rebellious smile. "For you I could be, honey," she grinned, not even paying attention to Brennan, who rolled her eyes at Booth. Booth scratched the back of his neck as he felt his partner's eyes on him.

"I'm Dr Temperance Brennan, and this is my partner, special agent Seeley Booth. We are with the FBI. We have some questions for you about Harold Times," Brennan cut in, irritated at the blonde woman whose I.Q seemed to be lower than average.

"Did you find him? Tell him I no longer want to see him!" She looked at Booth and ignored Brennan once more.

"I'm afraid that he has been found dead." Booth spoke for the first time since asking for her name.

"If he's is dead, why are _you_ here?" she asked, sounding as if venom was spitting out of her mouth.

Booth glanced at Brennan. They exchanged a disgusted look.

"Because, according to the missing persons report, you were the last person to see Harold," Booth stated. "And since I'm FBI, it's my job to ask you for as much information as possible. Do you understand?"

She nodded in consent. "Would you like to come in?" she offered.

She opened the door and allowed them in, directing them to the living room before excusing herself to retrieve a jumper.

"She was flirting with you, Booth," Brennan said straight after Sophia had left the room.

"She was not," he dismissed her comment and looked around the room.

"She's your type," Brennan continued. "You know, Blonde."

"Bones, just drop it okay?" he hissed.

Just as he was about to comment on it, Sophia entered the room. "What would you like to know?" she asked.

"How long have you known Harold?" Booth asked.

"Since Dunbar High School," she said.

"So you know him pretty well then?" Booth concurred. She nodded. "Do you know anyone who could have a motive to kill him?"

"No. He was a good person." She paused. "Well…when he wasn't _drunk._" Booth nodded and noted her comment. Brennan looked around the room as she always did, mostly looking for clues, other times studying the area.

"What was he like when he was drunk?" Booth asked.

She sighed. "Agent Booth, what you have to know about Harold is that whenever he wasn't working, he was drinking. Four years ago he ended up in hospital with alcohol poisoning, I told him to stop drinking and he became violent towards me." She blinked the watery tears away.

"So then why did you stay with him for so long?" Brennan spoke for the first time.

"I didn't have anywhere else to go," she muttered.

"So, in theory, you could have killed Harold, with the motive of taking revenge and gaining independence," Brennan said and received a warning gaze from Booth. She dismissed his look and turned her eyes to Sophia and waited for the answer. Sophia gasped and looked at the partners.

"What? NO! I loved Harold, why the hell would I kill him?!" she protested.

"I did not say you killed him, I simply stated my theory," Brennan replied almost instantly.

"I've got to leave for work in half an hour, so if you don't mind, I'd like for you to leave." Sophia stood up and walked towards the front door. Booth and Brennan followed.

"You'll be hearing from us again," Booth said.

"I won't open my door without a warrant," she muttered and closed the door.

"Well, that was informative." Booth joked sarcastically. Brennan nodded in agreement, not really registering the sarcasm on his voice.

"It was. We know our victim was an alcoholic. We know what high school he went to and..."

"Bones, I was there," he interrupted her. They walked back to the black glossy SUV when Brennan's phone began to ring.

"Brennan."

"Hey Sweetie! Your victim is Dr. Hart Line. He is 36 years old and a neurosurgeon from Pennsylvania. Hart was reported missing one month ago by his old high school friend Joanna Lovegood. Nobody has seen him since," Angela reported through the phone.

"Do you have a cause of death yet?" Brennan asked.

"Not yet. Vince is examining the body," she replied.

"Okay, send me Joanna's address," Brennan said.

"Sure thing, she is staying at a friend's house in Delaware, West Virginia. I'll send you the address." Angela ended the call and returned to look through different scenarios on the computer.

~*~*~*

"Dr Saroyan," Vincent Nigel-Murray called. "I believe I've discovered cause of death for Dr Brennan's victim." he assured.

Cam walked towards the young intern and listened to his findings.

"Well you see, the haemorrhagic is the result of the victims fractures of the thyroid cartilage and the hyoid bone suggest that the victim had been beaten with a sharp object in the back of his neck, and then he was draped on a rope whilst still alive, and it indicates this," he pointed to a small mark on the neck. "If I had to make any quick assumptions, I would assume that Dr Hart Line has died in a similar manner to Harold Times," he concluded. Cam nodded and reached for a pen to report the new findings.

Just as she was about to leave the platform, Vincent Nigel-Murray stated, "Hanging is a common method for committing suicide." Cam turned around and gazed at the young intern.

"The materials necessary for suicide by hanging are easily available to the average person compared to firearms or lethal poison. It is a deceptively simple yet highly effective suicide method. Full suspension is not required, and for this reason, hanging is especially commonplace among suicidal prisoners," he finished his fact with a content smile. Cam slightly nodded, confused with his relevance, and left without questioning him.

She walked towards Angela's office and smiled when the forensic artist's head looked up from the controller of the Angelator. "Ange, Mr. Nigel-Murray has made a discovery that could connect both victims; I need you to run an identification check on both victims to see their connec-"

"I'm already ahead of you, Cam! Both victims attended the same high school, and according to their high school reports, they were both on the same basketball team," Angela stated. Cam nodded and praised her employee.

~*~*~*~**

"Bones, for the mother of all good, just drop this. You sneezed; I said 'Bless you'. That's just what people do. I was not in any way implying that you should go into religion." Booth sighed as he drove to the address Angela had given them.

"Booth, did you know that during the 6th Century, it was customary to congratulate people who sneezed because it was thought that they were expelling evil from their bodies. During the great plague of Europe, the Pope passed a law to say "God bless you" to one who sneezed, therefore you are passing the religion to me!" she looked at him, contentment on her eyes.

"Now are you going to tell me that the Pope didn't make up some rule, which by the way seriously supports my first argument that religion is just a set of laws so that one can act in sensibility and be controlled. _Jesus_ did _not_ come up with these rules, as the man that was once believed to exist on this planet is now deceased, and I very much doubt that zombies exist!" She took in a deep breath after her speech was over.

Booth looked at her in disbelief. "Please don't refer to Jesus as a zombie again, Bones," he said as the car came to a stop. They got out of the SUV and walked towards the white house, both still mumbling about their respective arguments.

"By the way Booth, I am not calling Jesus a zombie! There is no such thing. I was merely stating that the whole 'Bless you' thing that people say after one sneezes just doesn't make sense when they don't know the full facts behind that phrase." She knocked the door and waited for it to open.

"ALL RIGHT! Next time you sneeze, I will keep my mouth shut. God, woman, you are infuriating," he said. She was about to reply, but closed her mouth when the door opened.

"Hi, may I help you?" asked a tall, athletic man, with fine light hair and deep green eyes. If one were to estimate his age he would fall under the mid thirties category.

"Hi, we are with the FBI. I'm special agent Seeley Booth and this is my partner Dr. Temperance Brennan. We have a few questions for Miss Lovegood. It was stated that she is staying here for a few weeks," Booth said.

The man nodded and allowed them inside. "Jo will be here in a second," he stated. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"We need information about Dr Hart Line," Bones replied. "Miss Lovegood reported him missing."

"You found him?" the man asked, pleading evident in his voice.

"May I ask you how you know Dr Line?" Booth inquired.

"We went to school together. I'm Alex Fernandes. Did you find him?" he asked once more.

"Yes. His remains have been found next to another victim. My statistics indicate that he has been dead for more than a couple of weeks. Due to the summer's heat, his body started to decompo—"

"Bones," Booth warned her.

Slowly making her way through the room, the partners observed the tall, attractive woman walking in and smiling at the partners. Booth recognised her but couldn't quite put a name to her face.

"Where do I know you from?" Booth asked.

"Mr. Williams and I found a dead body hanging on a tree in down town D.C. You questioned us," she stated.

"Yes, I remember now"

"So why are you here?" she asked, straight to the point.

"Well when you discovered the body, there was another victim a few yards away from him," Booth explained. She wheezed. "And I'm so sorry, but the victim was Dr Hart Line," Booth said. Joanna's eyes grew wider, as she began to cry.

"What? No...No," she sobbed. Alex walked closer to his friend and hugged her shaking body.

"I can't believe he is dead! Why would someone want to kill Hart?" she asked through her sobs.

"Please accept our condolences," Booth murmured.

"How did he die?" Alex asked as he caressed his friends back, comforting her.

"My team at the Jeffersonian stated he died in the same way as the victim Miss Lovegood found. It appears the murders are connected," Brennan said.

Joanna looked up from her sobs to Brennan and asked, "So I know who that dead man was?"

Brennan nodded. "He was Harold Times".

Her sobs worsened. "No! Not Harold too! I spoke to him a few weeks ago, we were meant to have coffee after our high school reunion." She sobbed into Alex's shoulder.

"Miss Lovegood, I'm really sorry, but we need to ask you a few questions," Booth gently said.

She nodded and wiped her tears away. "What do you need to know? Alex and I were best friends with Harold and Hart at school".

Booth gave her an encouraging smile. "Do you know anyone that could have a motive to kill either Harold or Hart?"

"No I don't. I've not seen them for a few years, as I live in California, but I've kept contact with both and everything was fine. Harold had a drinking problem but he was attending classes for that, and Hart" she took a deep breath, "Hart was the kind of guy that everyone looked up to," she whispered, tears staring to appear in her eyes once more.

"I'm sorry, but I have to ask, were you and Dr Hart in a romantic relationship?"

She shook her head. "I loved Hart very much, Agent Booth, but he and I never got a chance to get together; he drew the line a few years ago."

Booth and Brennan exchanged looks. "A line?" she asked.

"Yes. He said the line was there to protect us from ever getting into a relationship, stating he believed if things ever fell apart, our strong friendship would fall with it," she sobbed. Brennan nodded in agreement.

Booth loosened his tie and swallowed soundly.

"But if the line wasn't there, then you would be together?" Brennan asked.

Joanna nodded sadly. "I wish I could have told him I loved him. I wish I had a second chance," she cried. Brennan nodded once more, understanding the woman's sadness.

"I think we have what we need for now," Booth said.

Alex stood up from the sofa and walked the partners towards the door. "If you have any other questions, the door is always open," he stated. Booth thanked him and said his goodbyes.

"God, I hate cases like this!" Booth commented when they got in the car. Brennan nodded in agreement; silence fell as they drove to the lab. They knew what the other was feeling, but neither said a word.

~Meantime at the lab~

"Dr Saroyan, have you gotten the results back from the autopsy for Harold Times yet?" Mr. Nigel-Murray asked.

She nodded and stated, "Autopsy showed signs of blunt, external force against head, neck, chest, and limbs. Examination of the neck revealed hemorrhage of the right sternocleidomastoid muscle. Both superior horns of the thyroid cartilage were fractured, as well as the hyoid bone, with slight hemorrhage of the surrounding soft tissue and mucosa," she concluded.

"Somebody really wanted this guy dead," Booth said as he and Brennan slid their cards through the security machine.

"Seeley, do you have a lead yet?" Cam asked.

"Not yet!" he frowned. "We spoke to Harold's girlfriend and Dr Lines friends and we've got nothing to go on. What have you found?" Booth asked her.

"Well Mr. Nigel-Murray has discovered both victims died in the same way. He is now examining the rest of the body. Angela has found some old high school reports that now give use the 110% assurance that the victims were, in fact, teammates. Therefore, the murderer must have known them both"

"Great, so now I've got to go to the Hoover building and search for everyone who might have known them. Is that honestly it? Can't you work harder?" Booth scolded.

"Seeley, never spur a willing horse"

Brennan looked confused. "It means don't urge someone who is already working well to work harder and faster. If you do, he may work less hard or be less eager," he whispered to Brennan.

"Oh," she lifted her head, understanding the phrase.

"I just want this case dealt with as soon as-"

"Did you know that pens in one type or another have been used for thousands of years?" Cam, Booth, Brennan and Hodgins, who appeared at the platform holding a piece of paper, stopped what they were doing and gazed at the young scientist in total confusion.

"What?" Booth exclaimed.

"Today, pens rank among the most widely used writing instruments. More than two billion pens are manufactured in the United States annually. There are five main kinds of pens. They are ballp-"

"Again, what?" Booth glared at the intern. "Vince, start making sense or I will get my gun out"

"Booth, stop scaring the boy." Brennan frowned.

"Is there any significance in this?" Hodgins grinned.

"Well, I found a...pen under the victim's ribs." He looked a little scared.

"Okay," Hodgins said, "Give me the pen, and I will see if I can get any finger prints from it, or something," The youthful scientist gave him the pen and sighed.

Hodgins observed the pen. It was a silver metallic pen with one single initial of J engraved on it.

"Nice Pen. I wonder where I can get one." Hodgins smiled.

"Wait! Can I see it?" Booth suddenly asked.

"Why?" Hodgins asked and made his way towards the agent with the pen.

"Because I think I know who the murderer is," he stated. "Let me hold it"

"No, you are not wearing gloves. You could compromise the evidence." Brennan said.

Booth rolled his eyes.

"I believe the murderer is Jake Williams. When we were at the crime scene, he was searching for a pen—a pen that was described just like that one." He pointed to the metallic object.

Brennan sighed. "He could have just dropped the pen, Booth. We don't have any evidence apart from a pen to establish that he has killed our two victims."

"It's the only lead we have, Bones. Please just go with my guts on this one," he gazed at her, his eyes pleaded with hers.

"Fine," she gave in with a sigh.

He rubbed his hands together, "Let go and get the bad guy, then, Bones."

She nodded and disposed of her gloves into the trash and walked towards her office. After retrieving her coat, Booth placed his hands on the small of her back and guided her to the exit of the building.

Booth grabbed his phone and dialed the FBI with the new information. He told them how he believed that Jake Williams was the murderer and how he wanted to question him. After the call had ended, he sighed and gazed at his partner who was staring out the window.

"They want us there in half an hour to question him," Booth stated. She nodded.

"Are you alright Bones?" he enquired in concern.

She nodded. "I'm fine".

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Booth and Brennan walked through the FBI building, going straight to their destination. As they reached the interrogation room, Booth opened the door and allowed Brennan in first. Jake Williams was already there.

"Finally, I've been here for an hour," he complained.

"You will be here for longer if you do not cooperate with us," Booth replied through gritted teeth.

"I'm assuming you know what you are here for," Brennan said.

"Yes, for the murder of Harold Times and Hart Line, which I didn't do," he mumbled.

"Okay, let's start over. Why did a guy as smart as you become a cop?" Booth asked.

"I wanted to make this world a safer place."

Booth smiled at him, as that was one of the reasons he became an FBI agent. "So why don't you tell me what happened. Like you, I'm just a cop Jake."

"I—I can't"

"You want to know something? Both victims suffered terribly before they died. Our findings show that both Harold and Hart had been beaten to death before they died; they put up a good fight, too. My assistant discovered that Hart had two broken fingers. Our forensic artist was able to conjure up a scenario that indicates that Hart's fingers broke when they collided with the murders ribs," Brennan stated the facts.

Jake's eyes twitched as he heard her.

"Booth, if you look at how he is sitting, you can see that he his slightly tilting to the right, indicating broken ribs—Angela's theory is true.".

Booth nodded. "I have all the evidence needed to arrest you on the murder of Dr. Hart Line, Jake, but I want to hear your reasons," Booth said as he looked into the suspects eyes.

"You can't arrest me...I....I'm a cop" he whispered.

"Jake, tell us why you killed Dr. Hart Line and Harold Times," Brennan asked.

Tears appeared in Jakes eyes as he looked from Booth to Brennan. "You have no idea what it was like in high school. Hart and Harold were both in the school's basketball team. They made my life hell for _four_ years!"

He took a deep breath and continued. "I didn't want to hurt them, I really didn't. All I wanted to do was to threaten them. I just wanted to show them what I accomplished. I always felt a step behind everybody. With police files and an old friend of mine, we tracked them down. He told me that Hart was in D.C for a few weeks due to our high school reunion, so it was a good time to meet," Jake concluded. His hands covered his face as tears streamed down his features."I didn't want to hurt them."

"Jake, you said your friend helped you track him down. Who was that?" Booth asked.

"I can't tell you! He made me promise not to tell anyone, he said he would go after my parents if...if I told anyone."

"JAKE," Booth said deadly calm. "YOU are going down for the murder of two people; you will be spending the rest of your life in jail. I do not want you to go down on your own if there is some else involved in this," Booth declared.

"I didn't kill them," Jake protested.

"Then _who_ did?" Booth asked, his patience running on a thin line.

Jake took a deep breath. "Alex Fernandes. He was mad...jealous that Joanna was in love with Hart. Alex picked me up from my parents' home and took us to the park. He said that we were going to meet an old friend, and when we arrived I saw Hart's body hanging from a tree," he blinked back a few tears.

"Tell me happened, Jake," Brennan asked. She placed her hand on top of his, feeling sorry for him.

"I don't know what happened, Alex just told me to help him dispose the body. He told me I was involved, and I know as a cop that if one witnesses a crime and does not tell the police, one is guilty of assistance in murder," Jake muttered.

"Jake, you do realise that even if you didn't kill Hart or Harold, you are still going to jail."

Jake nodded in understanding.

"I will have to arrest you and Alex." Booth said.

Jake nodded once more a broke down in tears.

"Jake Williams, you are under arrest for the assistance death of Dr. Heart Line and Harold Times. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can, and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be provided for you."

Later when he reunited with Brennan, she gazed at him and smiled.

He noticed this and smiled back. "We always catch the bad guy," he said simply, his smile widening.

"What's going to happen to Alex?" She asked.

"He's going away for a long time".

"It turned out that Jake rang Harold for help, when Harold got to the scene; Alex threatened Harold to back away. Harold didn't, Jake tried to break the fight, and Harold punched him in the ribs, and I'm sure you know what happened next," he said.

After the case was solved as usual, Booth and Brennan entered the diner and took their seats by the window. And ordered their typical food.

"Booth, I was wondering earlier… Joanna Lovegood said that the reason she didn't have a relationship with Hart was because of the line he had drawn."

Booth nodded and swallowed the lump growing in his throat.

"Why do people make those lines?" she asked. "I mean all that the line ever creates is . . . pain. Just look at Joanna, she was always in pain because she could never be close to him."

Booth squinted at her in astonishment. "I don't know what that means," he joked.

She playfully slapped him on the shoulder. "I'm serious, Booth. Lines like those are dim-witted."

"Sometimes people 'make lines' in order to protect the ones they love. I mean..." he sighed, "Hart drew the line so that his friendship with Joanna wouldn't be destroyed. People make lines all the time. Some do it for Hart's reasons, some do it for self-protection, others for the protection of the ones they care most for," he whispered. Their eyes met and lingered, as words they desperately wanted to say was left unsaid, both knowing the hidden messages behind their words.

Their waitress arrived and placed their plates on the table, however both partners were oblivious as they maintained their eye contact.

Booth moved his body closer to hers over the table. "Think of the line as an author."

"An author?" Her eyes squinted.

"Yes. In the beginning, the reader gets to know the writer. In the middle, we become more familiar with their style, but at the end—that's when we get to believe in their story, because that's when something _eventually_ happens. So the answer to your comment about the line being dim-witted is that sometimes they break for the better—one just has to wait," he whispered.

She took a deep breath; her face did not move an inch as their eyes held a strong bond.

"Do you understand?" He smiled lightly. She nodded.

"Good." His already wide smile widened; his eyes dropped to the table and reached for a French-fry.

"Hey, that was my plate, Booth."

"It was so not," he chuckled.

"It was, the plate closer to you is yours, this..." she mentions to the plate that he had taken a fry from, "...Is my plate"

"Sorry Bones, I guess your plate tastes better," he grinned.

* * *

_~ Thank you for reading and not falling asleep, please let me know what you thought by clicking on the review button ~_


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